


Support

by MoonwalkingCrab



Series: Stepping Stones [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Gets A Hug, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support Firbolg Forever, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/pseuds/MoonwalkingCrab
Summary: Battles against monsters are easy (sometimes), battles against the past are a lot harder, especially for Caleb. Thankfully, he is starting to realise the support system he has.





	Support

Caleb hears Yasha’s scream of rage as a streak of blue falls crumpled on the ground between them and she dashes forward, sword drawn on the creature that has just tossed Beau aside. He glances down and feels his stomach twist with a cold knife of pain; Beau’s eyes are like blue glass, staring towards the bare stone ceiling, her body twisted unnaturally beneath her. Caleb steels himself, fumbling in his pockets for a potion that he knows he doesn’t have. He can see Jester on the other side of the room, her hands on the wound in Fjord’s side, healing him within a protective circle of unicorns that are far too bright for this dark place. Above them, a second creature looms, misshapen and terrible, a hoarse roar echoing from within the stitched together corpses that form its body. Nott has disappeared, but as an arrow sails straight into one milky-white eye with a _thwk_ , Caleb knows she is nearby.

Pushing his hand out, he grits his teeth, releasing a spread of scorching rays from the tips of his fingers—fireball is too risky with his friends so close—focusing his power to send five streaks of bright fire into the creature’s side. The flames throw every stitch of ragged flesh into peaks of light and shadow, flares of orange bursting from the crystals embedded beneath long-dead skin. The creature screams, blisters growing and spreading. They burst and sizzle as the magical bonds that hold each part together are burned away, flesh blackening as the construct falls to its knees.

In the corner of his eye, Caleb can see the pale pink curtain of Caduceus’ hair, hovering over Beau’s still form and a spark of hope blooms within him. Caduceus clasps a diamond in his hands and bows his head in prayer, time seeming to stand still, just for an instant. He can hear Caduceus’ words, soft as they are in the chaos.

“Mother Melora, I need your help.”

The last of the fire burns down with a final curl of smoke and Caleb feels a momentary tug to the past, washed away in an instant by the warm breeze that suddenly seems to fill the stone chamber. 

He can smell flowers.

The diamond falls from Caduceus’ hands in a flurry of lights, dancing like blossoms in the wind as they fall and sink into the ground around Beau, reemerging moments later as softly curling vines. The light wraps every broken limb, growing brighter and brighter. The vines overlap, outlining Beau in green-tinged sunlight. Her chest rises as she draws in a shuddering breath and Caleb sees Caduceus smile, the light seeping into Beau’s skin. She sits bolt upright with a gasp and the world comes back into motion, just in time for Caleb to hear Yasha shout his name.

The creature, seeing Beau revived, has been thrown into a berserker rage, rushing towards her, paying no heed to anything else in its path. Unfortunately, that is Caleb. 

He sees Yasha swing wide, he hears the roar of dead breath in his ears, and he sees his own eyes, wide with fear, reflected in the crystal shards that protrude from the stitched together form of the flesh golem. A thought crosses Caleb’s mind as one great hand slams into him, crushing him to the floor.

_I was responsible for this._

Then there is only black.

*****

“Okay, okay, okay,” is the first thing Caleb hears, and he opens his eyes to see Yasha kneeling above him, her bloody hands on his chest. She gives a soft smile as his gaze finds hers. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Caleb slowly sits, his body aching. He can already feel the bruises blooming across his skin, held at bay by Yasha’s healing hands. “It’s enough, thank you.”

She nods, backing away towards where Caduceus helps Beau gingerly to her feet. Her sword drips with gore and as Caleb turns his head, he can see Nott rushing towards him, worry lining all around her yellow eyes. Her knuckles grip tight on her crossbow and a glance to the other side shows Caleb the creature that knocked him out, two bolts embedded in its skull.

“You’re okay? You’re alive? I have a potion if you want it.” She shoves the bottle at Caleb’s face and he shakes his head, gently pushing her hand away.

“No, no, give it to Beauregard, I’m fine.” Caleb stands, shaky but determined, already scanning the walls of the room, searching for a way forwards. “We need to find what we can here and get out.” He has already been here too long, he can feel it beneath his skin, aching like an old wound.

A large hand lands on Caleb’s shoulder, squeezing tight, and he finds himself glancing up into Caduceus’ concerned eyes, worry etched deep into the usually placid lines of his face. “You are most definitely _not_ fine. Now come here while I heal you.” He moves as if to wrap Caleb in his arms and Caleb tenses.

He wants nothing more than to lean into the warmth Caduceus seems to radiate—be it residual divine energy, or something of Caduceus himself—but not here, not now. Who knows what other wards have been left. Instead, he brushes Caduceus’ hand from his shoulder. “We don't have time,” he mutters. 

The look of hurt on Caduceus’ face is almost enough to cut through the waves of nervous energy that break over Caleb as he turns to the rest of the group—Beau now looking only slightly less stunned as Yasha easily lifts her off her feet. 

“We need to be careful. There may be more where they came from.” Caleb eyes the misshapen corpse on the ground, old blood slowly oozing from its many wounds. “I know Trent Ikithon is responsible for far more bodies than these creatures are made of.” 

He knows. He helped. 

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Caleb slowly paces to where Nott is deftly picking the lock on a door to the far side of the room. His vision swims before him, pounding in dark red pulses as his ears ring with sounds he knows belong to the past. 

_Screams cut short. The dull thud of an axe on flesh. The sibilant hiss of his master's voice in his ear._

_“They’re traitors, Bren. Show them what we do with traitors.”_

Caleb shudders and sees Nott raise an eyebrow. 

“Are you okay here?” 

He nods, swallowing against the rising bile in his throat. Every instinct is screaming at Caleb to run, to get away, that somehow Trent will know that the Nein have broken into this former research tower and disturbed the experiments within. He clenches his hands into shaking fists and breathes deep. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just get what we came for and go.”

There is no guarantee the research they need will even be here, but the fact that the tower remained guarded, despite apparent abandonment, certainly points towards there still being information to find. 

The lock clicks and Nott grins up at Caleb, fangs glinting. “I’ll check for traps on the way down,” she says. “Maybe you should go check in with”—she jerks her head towards the remainder of the group—“our healer there.” She pats at Caleb’s hand. “You did just get knocked out, after all.” Her voice lowers, “He was scared, I saw..” She folds her arms, dark brows drawing together, a disapproving look on her face. “And you wouldn’t let him hug you. What happened? I thought you two were…”

Caleb glances back, following Nott’s gaze. She’s right; there is a nervous tension to Caduceus’ posture, his hands gripping tight to his staff. His ears droop low and Caleb feels another stab of guilt: he didn’t mean to make anyone worry. 

“I didn’t think,” he mumbles. “I just want to get out of here.” 

“We will.” Nott shrugs her cloak up a little. “I’ll send a message when I know it’s clear.” She steps into the shadow of the door and disappears into the darkness, leaving Caleb twisting his fingers in his scarf. As bad as he was feeling about this place, it’s worse now, knowing that he might have hurt Caduceus, however unintentionally.

“Everything okay over there?” Fjord calls and Caleb gives a curt nod.

“Nott is checking for traps, she’ll let us know when we can go down.” He rubs at the scars on his wrists, dropping his gaze to his feet as the rest of the group approach. “Hopefully we can find the research we need and be gone.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus echoes, “I don’t like it here.”

Beau coughs out a rough laugh. “I can’t say I’m a fan either.” She’s back on her feet, leaning on Yasha’s arm for support. “Caleb, you know this place?”

Suppressing a shudder, Caleb gives a small shake of the head. “Not here but I was, um, trained somewhere similar. It’s...familiar.”

Too familiar.

Spikes of phantom pain lance through Caleb’s arms, making him wince. It’s hard, blocking out the past and he can feel himself starting to shiver again. It would be so easy to run, like he always has, but research is research, and if it helps Nott return to her rightful form, then it is worth the steadily growing ache in his head.

_“Everything seems to be fine down here, there was a trap but I disarmed it.”_ Nott’s voice rings in Caleb’s ears. _“I think this might be the last floor, there are a_ lot _of papers here. We should just grab everything and go...you can reply to this message.”_

_“Ja_ , okay Nott, we’ll come down.” Caleb nods to the rest of the party, following Fjord and Jester as they lead the way into the next—and hopefully final—level of the tower. He glances behind, trying to catch Caduceus’ eye and succeeding only in tripping over his own feet. 

Yasha catches him by the arm, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Try not to fall. We’ve had enough people hurt today.” Her other arm is wrapped tightly around Beau’s waist, holding her close. Beau doesn’t seem to mind and raises her eyebrows at Caleb, a stunned smile on her lips. 

It gets darker as they descend and Caleb brushes some phosphorus from his pocket over his fingertips, casting Dancing Lights in the same instant that Caduceus lights his staff. The pale purple glow glints off the stone walls, reflecting in Nott’s eyes as she waits at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded.

“There is one big room with a lot of desks and another through there with one or two books left on the shelves.” Nott points towards an archway and Caleb immediately feels a flare of interest.

“I’ll check the books, then,” he says, already stepping towards the arch. “You’re sure there are no other doors?”

“Not that I could find...” Nott hesitates a second, “but if someone else wants to check, that’s fine.”

Caduceus’ lip twitches up in a whisper of his usual calm smile. “Let me do a quick Detect Magic, just in case,” he says before wandering into the larger room. He is quickly followed by the rest of the group, leaving Caleb in the archway, Nott’s gaze still darting over him.

“I can look with you, if you like,” she says.

“No, it’s fine,” Caleb gives a thin smile, “maybe you could ask Caduceus to join me, though? I should apologise.” Nott grins in approval and Caleb can feel his cheeks heating. “Give me a few minutes though, _ja_?”

“Of course, and I’ll make sure to keep everyone else busy while you”—Nott winks in what she probably thinks is a roguish manner—“ _talk_.”

Caleb winces, pacing to the room and selecting the first book that catches his eye in an attempt to hide the blush steadily climbing his features and and making his ears burn. The embarrassment is a welcome distraction, though; it refocuses his mind, bringing his thoughts closer to the present.

The first book is something of an experiment log, its pages spattered with stains that Caleb doesn’t care to identify. The diagrams are no less gruesome, bringing bile to the back of Caleb’s throat and making him curse his eidetic memory—there are enough horrors in his mind without the detailed instructions for constructing flesh golems. Gingerly, he sets the book aside, hoping for something a little more fruitful with the next one.

‘Channeling Natural Energy into Arcane Art’, this book seems a little more useful and Caleb sets it aside; he’ll take this one with him. He idly flicks through the next few, some more useful than others, until he has a small stack to cram into the bag of holding and take his time over later. He picks up the final book and feels the stitching of the spine give way in his hand, scattering page after page of handwritten notes across the floor.

“ _Scheiße_ ,” Caleb mutters, dropping to his knees in an attempt to gather everything together. His eye is caught by one note in particular.

_Despite some initial discomfort on the part of the subjects, crystal implantation seems to have been a success. All three show increased arcane abilities that will serve to complement their training. While subject E shows proficiency with magical weapons, subject A seems more inclined to subtle magics and poisons. Subject B, my prized asset, has a particular affinity for fire which I intend to harness to its full destructive capability. There is no telling how powerful the subjects may become as we enhance their inherent talent through further experimentation, I can only hope to unlock their full potential._

Caleb's vision swims before his eyes, his hands shaking in his lap, dropping the page to land amidst the rest. Black spots of pain pound in his head, his stomach clenching as the cold horror of realisation seeps through him. He curls in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut against the burn of tears that he refuses to let fall.

Breathing seems impossible, the tight knot in Caleb’s chest letting barely a trickle of air enter his lungs. He can feel the panic rising and clenches his fingers in his hair, hoping that the slight tug of pain will keep him anchored to the present. It’s all too much. He never should have come here. Every step they take closer to Trent Ikithon is a step closer to Caleb losing himself again, be it in anger or grief, or simply losing his mind once more. He slumps the the ground, tremors wracking through every inch of his body. He knows he needs to fight it but it feels as if the stone walls of the tower are closing in around him, pressing in on his mind and scattering his thoughts to dust.

“Caleb? Nott said you wanted to—” 

There is a clatter of wood against the floor and Caleb dimly registers the amethyst glow of Caduceus’ staff landing next to him.

And then there are arms around him, strong and warm, holding him tight. Pink hair falls across Caleb’s vision as Caduceus presses their foreheads together, his voice low and soothing.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He smooths his hand over Caleb’s grubby hair, the other rubbing circles on his back. 

Leaning into the touch, Caleb sniffs, shivers still running through every inch of his body. He lets himself fall forwards, pressing his face to Caduceus’ shoulder. He doesn’t deserve this comfort, but his limbs feel too heavy for him to move. He can feel the rumble of Caduceus’ voice as he speaks, slowly and calmly.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but I want to help.”

Caleb winces, pulling back just enough to meet Caduceus’ soft gaze. “I’m a terrible person,” he says, voice cracking.

Caduceus’ ears flatten a little at the statement and he raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.” His lip quirks up in the smallest of smiles. “I mean, you can be a little up your own butt sometimes, but I don’t think that’s too bad.” He raises one big hand, stroking across Caleb’s cheekbone with his thumb. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I kinda like you.”

Caleb’s breath shudders out in a long exhale and he squeezes his eyes shut once more. He needs to show Caduceus that he’s mistaken, that he shouldn’t waste his time with someone so irreparably broken. He leans back, skimming over the pages that lie like dead leaves around them, plucking the first one he sees containing the words _‘Subject B’_. He turns in Caduceus’ arms, leaning back against his chest and feeling Caduceus’ chin settle on his shoulder—their preferred reading position.

“This is me,” Caleb says.

_The unquestionable loyalty of the subjects has been a particular triumph. All three have been instrumental in obtaining confessions from those presented before them, utilising their increased arcane abilities in ways previously unthought. Subject B in particular shows a cold and methodical approach to torture, gaining information through skillful manipulation, taking the victim apart mentally before turning to the physical application of pain. Eventually, the subjects will be instructed to execute these perceived threats to the Empire, but for now they make for excellent practice as they hone their skills. The bodies of these ‘dissidents’ will subsequently be dismembered by the subjects and utilised in the creation of flesh golems to further guard my various research locations._

Caleb feels Caduceus’ arms tighten around him as he slowly reads, his lips moving in Caleb’s peripheral vision. One hand lies on Caleb’s knee, the other rubbing circles on his stomach in what must be an unconscious soothing gesture. It feels nice, Caleb thinks; for the first time in a long time, he feels almost safe. Which makes this all the worse.

“So, you see what I have done?” he murmurs when Caduceus stops reading. He lets the page fall to the ground. “This is who I am.”

“Who you _were_ ,” Caduceus says, holding Caleb even tighter. “You can’t change that, but you have changed who you are now, who you will be.” He buries his nose in Caleb’s hair, pressing kisses to his scalp. 

“I have done terrible things.” Caleb runs his fingers over the back of Caduceus’ hand, wanting to take it in his own. “I don’t deserve your sympathy.”

“You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,” Caduceus says, turning his hand over to thread their fingers together. “I still fully believe you are going to be something amazing, and, if you’ll have me, I want to be with you when you find out what that is.”

Caleb huffs out a small chuckle. “I am not good with feelings, you may have noticed.”

“That’s okay, I haven’t a clue about these types of relationships, myself.” Caduceus shuffles around a little awkwardly on the floor to sit beside Caleb rather than behind him. “I was a little concerned when you wouldn’t let me hold you earlier.” His ears droop down as he looks to the floor, a faint hint of pink just visible at the tips. “I thought maybe you wanted to hide whatever it is we have going on here.”

Blinking, Caleb sits a little straighter, tightening his grip on Caduceus’ hand. “Look,” he says, “I can’t promise I am going to be perfect at this but...I want that, what you said, whatever fucked up future that might be, I want it with you.” Caleb pauses for a second, “And Nott. And everyone else as well.” He is selfish, he always has been, he wants to keep this family.

“It’s okay to want to be happy,” Caduceus says, a small smile starting to slide up his lips. He places a hand on Caleb’s knee, gently tracing circles. “I want you to be happy.”

Caleb glances up into coral eyes filled with concern and gives a small, tired, smile. “I’m getting there,” he says and leans forward, catching Caduceus in an unexpected kiss.

It is the briefest brush of lips and Caleb pulls back only to find Caduceus catching the back of his head and drawing him back in. He kisses softly, breath warm over Caleb’s lips, the faint flavour of tea catching on Caleb’s tongue as he inhales. He lets go of Caduceus’ hand to wind his fingers through the scruff of his beard, a shiver running through him as the hair scrapes at his palm. Caleb parts his lips, a tremor of heat running through him as Caduceus’ tongue brushes against his own.

Caduceus’ hand is tight on his knee, and when he squeezes, Caleb feels a jolt of want arc through him like lightning. This is the perfect distraction from the traces of the past around him. Caleb holds tight, pulling Caduceus towards him and kissing him deeply. He doesn’t know what the future might bring, but this is a good place to start.

_“Caleb! Beau is heading back through, make sure you’re decent!”_

Nott’s shrill voice cuts through the pleasant haze that kissing Caduceus brings to Caleb’s mind and he pulls away, glancing over his shoulder as footsteps approach. He rises to his feet, pulling Caduceus along with him, just as Beau appears in the archway of the door.

“Hey, Caleb, Fjord needs you to come look at something he found,” Beau rubs at the back of her head, looking uncomfortable, “and, um, Cad, I wanted to...y’know, with the being dead and then not-dead thing...I kinda wanted to talk.” She glances over the room, taking in the papers scattered across the floor. “What’s with the notes?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Find anything good?” 

Caleb shakes his head before tossing a single, controlled fire bolt into the midst of the pages. “Nothing useful there,” he says and picks up his stack of books. “I’ll go see what Fjord wants.” 

Shifting the books under one arm, Caleb looks between Beau and Caduceus and smiles softly, a thought forming in his mind. “Come through once you’re done, _mein Liebling_ ,” he says and reaches up to cup Caduceus’ cheek. Standing on the tips of his toes, he pulls Caduceus down into a brief, soft, kiss and turns for the door, successfully resisting the urge to watch Beau’s reaction as he steps past her.

Behind him the research notes and Bren’s past crumble into ashes. Ahead of him, he can hear the laughter of his friends. What the future might hold, Caleb isn’t sure, but when he does find out, he knows he’ll have support.


End file.
